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If the facade is visible through the single-paned windows lining the downstairs, or if the ocean views beyond our property distract from the ugly reality.
He introduces me to politicians, CEOs, and foreign leaders. Men that any woman would probably feel lucky to have the attention of, and yet after each conversation all I feel is grimy.
Fear invades my bloodstream like a virus,
Humanity is expendable to them, and they toy with fate just because they can. My father is one of those men. Always has been.
“You can’t say sorry and erase what happened.”
I’m flirting with danger, standing at the edge of a cliff and trying to convince myself not to take the plunge, even as my foot steps into the air.
“Believe me, love. You couldn’t handle it if I was.”
Before, I was only contemplating jumping off the cliff. Now, I’ve launched myself off the edge, and am free-falling out of control.
People tend to be many things in my presence. Petrified, resentful, or perhaps even aroused.
“How would Daddy feel if he knew where you were right now? If he knew the man who once held his life in the palm of his hand was currently cradling your cheek and fantasizing about just how wet he can get you?”
Omg
Once upon a time, I wouldn’t have even minded. If you’d asked the eleven-year-old hunched over her dying father in the kitchen if one day she’d be disgusted by his very presence, she would’ve laughed in your face. Then again, that eleven-year-old didn’t know better.
Didn’t know what he was capable of. And I owe it to her to stop letting him win.
“Oh, god, did you kill the owner?” “Why? Afraid of ghosts?” “Not afraid. I just happen to think they shouldn’t be disturbed.”
For some reason, I haven’t moved, even though my brain is begging me to retreat. To not fall for her pretty face and round tits when she’s the goddamn daughter of the man who orchestrated my father’s ruin and death.
I don’t date. Never quite understood the appeal of intertwining your fate with someone else’s, especially in the temporary sense that most relationships seem to exist within.
Passion and work don’t have to line up, but it certainly makes life a bit easier when they do.
Lenny isn’t Shakespearean blank verse; she’s a Greek tragedy waiting to happen.
“I’m a Cancer,” I say finally, propping my knee up so it’s in the seat with me. Jonas frowns. “That’s no way to talk about yourself, love.” “What?” My face twists up. “No, not like that. My zodiac sign.
Lmaooooo
“Show him, love. Prove to him who you belong to.”
“You’re fucking crazy,” he spits, a tear gliding down to mix with his blood. “And you’d do well to remember it.”
“It’s in your best interest to not speak of those before me.”
“Because you think I’m weird?” “Because I think you’re terrifying.”
A pawn in every man’s life that she’s ever been a part of, and even though I’ve been up front about my intentions, that doesn’t make them less impure. Doesn’t make her less used.
Like she could save me or condemn me, and the entire fate of my soul rests in her hands.
“Resilience is an attribute you seem to possess in spades.”
Why does the distinction matter when it’s all pretend, anyway?
Insatiable is one word for it. Completely and utterly deranged is more accurate.
Loss is difficult enough, and it becomes a thousand times more insufferable when it’s the kind that could have been avoided.
You don’t get to show up and reinsert yourself back into my life, or even exist on the outskirts.
Period boundries are important
“Violence gets you going, huh?” “Only if it’s yours.”
Even if I don’t know what exactly that means, it feels more truthful than anything else I’ve ever said.
I like the reassurance, even if it is a little hollow.
my mind very quickly spiraling out of control as every emotion I’ve pressed down over the last year seems to come to the surface, collapsing together like the creation of the universe. An ugly, raw, painful universe I never wanted to be a part of.
And here, this man I thought I could trust with my secrets, my shame, pushes me further into it.
But it hurts, oh god does it hurt, as the memories rush past, forcing me to relive them one by one.
Love hurts, my brain says. But it also heals.
At this point, my silence is just to prolong the breaths I have in my body.
Easier is not always better.
“I do, you know. Love you.
No one else has ever been willing to save me, when it was all I ever really wanted to begin with.
That shouldn’t be romantic, but goddamn. The man just gets me.
Devastatingly alluring and completely terrifying, Lenny Primrose (soon to be Wolfe) could easily start another war in her lifetime. And I would be at the helm of the very first ship, leading the charge into battle.
Omg im sobbing
